Everybody's Got One
by lost-in-pemberley
Summary: The happiest memory he could conjure wasn't good enough.


_Hello! _

_This is just my entry into the d/hr contest over on Tumblr. _

_I hope you enjoy it!_

_Disclaimer: Nothing is mine._

* * *

**Everybody's Got One**

When Harry and Ron both politely rejected the offer to return to Hogwarts, Hermione jumped at the chance.

Of all the opportunities, the offers and the options she had been presented with almost on a daily basis, she chose to return to Hogwarts.

It was the 1st of September and platform 9¾ bustled like it had never been empty. It was strange that for an entire year, the world stopped but it was so easy to pick things up where they were left off.

But of course Hermione knew the truth; that the things most broken were often the things that looked perfectly repaired on the outside. First years and their parents kissed each other goodbye excitedly but there was also fear in the embraces as parents held their children for a lingering moment, reluctant to let go. Hogwarts wouldn't be the same -life wouldn't be the same. As if to remind Hermione how true the statement was, Harry and Ron were absent from the platform, both having prior Auror duties to perform and instead, Ginny and Luna stood by her side.

"It's not the same, is it?" Ginny said softly.

"No," Hermione sighed. "It's not."

"Don't be sad," Luna said, her voice lulling and soothing. "I'm glad Hogwarts is still standing."

She was right –the changes and the differences weren't of the upmost importance. What was important was that they had fought for and achieved the chance to rebuild their future.

"What's _he _doing here?"

Hermione followed Ginny's gaze and noticed the tall, blond Draco Malfoy standing at the far end of the platform with both of his parents, away from the crowds. Lucius Malfoy said something to his son, Narcissa kissed him quickly on the cheek and Draco nodded and left, stepping onto the train.

"I imagine he's back for the final year of Hogwarts," Hermione said. "I must admit; it's awfully brave of him to come back after everything."

Ginny nodded slowly. "Either brave or just stupid; he's not going to have the best year –the only Slytherins who've returned are Parkinson and Zabini."

"You can give him hell, Hermione," Ginny beamed. "After all, you're Head Girl!"

The news of Hermione's Head Girl status was greeted by her family and friends with affirmative reactions; Harry had congratulated her with a broad smile while Ron beamed and proclaimed a proud "I knew it," to anyone who would listen. The rest of the Weasley clan had congratulated her enthusiastically and even George's smile seemed to genuinely reach his eyes.

The Hogwarts Express bellowed a loud puff of steam followed by the trademark shout of "All Aboard!" Hermione, Ginny and Luna heaved and pulled their trunks and bags onto the smoking train and tried to locate an empty compartment. The first few were filled with chattering first years and animals screeching and shuffling in their cages. Towards the back of the train, most of the end compartments were empty save for Draco Malfoy sitting quietly in one, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson perched stonily by his side.

When they slid open the door, he gave them a look of tired resignation.

"Oh," Ginny said quietly. "Let's go and find another compartment."

They slid the door closed again, Malfoy sitting still and ramrod straight on the other side, the image of the figure he cut straying for an extra moment in Hermione's subconscious.

"He looks lonely."

"It's his fault for alienating everyone."

Finally locating Neville and Seamus with a compartment to themselves at the back of the train, the journey towards Hogwarts passed in solemn silence.

"It feels strange returning," Ginny mumbled later. "It won't be the same."

The countryside flew past in a blur of reds and yellows, the sky darkening and threatening to rain and the train chugged on slowly, pulling closer to their destination.

Hermione hadn't been back to the castle since the last battle, unsure she'd be able to take it if she saw the castle torn and falling apart but as the train pulled into the station, her robes were donned and her Head Girl badge proudly gleamed on her chest.

The issue of Head Boy had nagged at her all summer, asking both Harry and Ron who their predictions would be and in the end, it seemed Neville would be the most obvious answer. Unfortunately, when asked about it, Neville disclosed that he had not been awarded Head Boy and had no clue who it would be.

Hermione stepped out onto the wet platform; Crookshanks tucked under her arm in his cage, and began to search for an unoccupied carriage. Towering over the heads of the students, Hermione could see Hagrid at the other end of the platform with a lantern and waving the first years in his direction, "Firs' years this way!" his voice boomed and Hermione felt a surge of familiarity and contentment wash over her and decided to greet Hagrid later. Ginny waved her over to a carriage occupied by Neville, Luna and Seamus.

"Come on Hermione, we don't want to be late," Ginny helped pull Hermione into the cart.

It occurred to Hermione that the Thestrals that had been so elusive to her were now painfully and acutely visible. She'd witnessed death first hand and although she'd wished once upon a time to be able to see the Thestrals, she was suddenly taking it back –she didn't want to see them, she wanted nothing more than to never see a Thestral ever again but the problem with that was that there were some things that one could not just _unsee_.

The ride was quiet and when the Thestrals pulled up outside the wrought iron gates of Hogwarts, Hermione craned her neck to see over the beast. The castle looked the same from a distance, its turrets and towers rising into the night sky majestically but she was worried what it would look like once she got closer; things always looked better from a distance.

They disembarked and slowly made their way up the path leading into Hogwarts, rain starting to fall from the dark evening sky. Hermione began to run as the rain crashed down heavier, the rest of her friends following suit. The castle grew larger and larger and Hermione noticed that the courtyard had been completely restored, plants twisting in and out of the walls as they had previously. They reached the castle doors relatively dry, thanks to a handy spell from Hermione and hefted their luggage through the front door.

A sudden image of herself during her first time through the Hogwarts doors flashed through Hermione's mind. The colours and the smells were so enchanting to her but the most vivid thing about the memory was the feel of wonder and excitement in her belly, spreading like a warm fire through her system. She had been so eager to learn, to absorb as much of this world into her body as possible and her enthusiasm to understand and soak up Hogwarts, magic and education had completely overwhelmed her. She'd never felt such a sense of belonging, like this was going to be a place she would love to be, a place where she would feel at home and comfortable.

Seven years later, Hermione stood in the same doorway, placing one foot in front of the other and remembered the past. The castle looked the same, the stone re-established and reinforced; it almost looked normal but the small cracks were there, blind to the naked eye but in Hermione's memory, she knew that against the stone steps, students had laid dying, that near the empty portrait of the three tabby cats, countless spells had been thrown against it and that the bricks and the mortar and the magic sealing Hogwarts together had once been breached and torn down.

Thankfully the Great Hall still boasted its enchanted ceiling, the clouds and the stars gathering to watch the old students enter Hogwarts. Ginny and Hermione bade farewell to Luna as she left to join the Ravenclaw table and amidst the chatter and laughter, the room felt incomplete. Students were missing and Hermione mourned the loss of Professor Snape, his seat at the high table unoccupied.

The doors of the Hall were opened slowly and Hagrid led the first years in. The students were young; no more than eleven or twelve and the marvel and awe on their fresh faces was enough to raise the mood in the hall.

Hermione caught a glimpse of Draco Malfoy at the almost empty Slytherin table. A handful of his previous house members had returned to Hogwarts and they sat together, their faces ashen and devoid of interest.

The first years reached the front of the hall and Headmistress McGonagall descended upon them, holding a parchment and the sorting hat which she placed on a stool.

Neville leaned over to Hermione. "I heard some third years talking about the Head Boy, Hermione."

Hermione's attention was diverted from the sorting and she whispered back to Neville, "Who is it?"

"You might not like this," Ginny mumbled from across the table.

"It's Malfoy," Neville disclosed.

"Malfoy?" The announcement was a shock. "Why would McGonagall appoint Malfoy as Head Boy?"

Ginny and Neville both shrugged. "Beats me –maybe his father bribed someone?"

"The Malfoy name hardly carries that kind of power anymore. I don't think bribery would have gotten them very far."

"So you're saying that he has actually been chosen based on merit and achievement?"

The three of them turned to look at Malfoy. His hair was slicked back, his robes impeccable and sitting on his chest was a gleaming badge.

"I don't know how we missed that," Hermione mumbled.

As if he could feel their stares, Malfoy's gaze was turned towards the Gryffindor table.

Hermione, Neville and Ginny quickly turned back around.

"Will you be alright this year?"

Hermione nodded. "Of course; I'm sure he has matured and forgotten his childish name calling by now."

"Well," Ginny glowered. "If he gives you any trouble, I'll sort him out."

* * *

The students who'd returned to make up for their last year of Hogwarts had separate common rooms and dormitories on the eighth floor, guarded by a bust of Helga the Horrible. Headmistress McGonagall's explanation of the set up was simple –all the students would live together for the year as their numbers were so few. Surely, it wouldn't matter especially following the end of the war and subsequent house rivalry anyway.

The dorm was devoid of House colours, Hermione noted. Probably to make sure there wouldn't be any house conflicts occurring.

Draco Malfoy lingered behind the group, watching the small group of students observing their surroundings. Longbottom and Granger were curiously staring at a painting of the castle, Blaise and Pansy were both standing stoically beside him as they observed the students milling around the room. Abbott, the Patil twins and the incessant Brown were giggling and glancing at Longbottom. Apparently his heroic deed had earned him a few giggle-worthy points.

"I'm going to find my room," Draco said quietly and left, following the staircase towards what he assumed were the dormitories.

A sign indicated him towards the Slytherin dorms and with a small groan he noticed the Gryffindor sign opposite.

"Don't think we're too happy about it either, Malfoy." Neville Longbottom had apparently, in addition to becoming Hogwarts latest heartthrob, upped his confidence.

Draco, drained and tired from the journey, simply gave him a look of resignation before pushing the door open to his dormitory and closing it softly behind him.

Once inside, he noticed that there were two more doors, partitioning the males from the females. Pushing open his own, he claimed the four-poster bed closest to the window and sat down.

He wasn't sure if it was nice to be back. Mixed emotions ran throughout him; was it nice? Or was it torture? On one hand, he was glad he was even allowed to return –of all the things he'd done here, all the acts he had participated in and all the thoughts he'd had about bringing it down, he was still allowed back, welcomed no less. Should he even be here? Have they really forgiven him?

But on the other hand, he was a Malfoy and the need to look out for himself that had been bred into him stood clear and above all else. You're here to study, Draco, he told himself. Not to make friends or ask for forgiveness.

This isn't a chance for you to atone for your mistakes.

With that thought, he closed the curtains around his bed, cast a few shields and spells and let his mind slowly wander into sleep.

* * *

Classes started as normal the next day, Hermione and the rest of the "eighth" years joining the seventh years in their lessons.

Advanced Potions was after lunch and Hermione walked briskly to class, Neville and Ginny beside her chattering away cheerily. Rounding the corner, Slughorn's voice was heard clearly over the din of the students.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts!" his pink cheeks split into a smile. "Can I just say how lovely it is to see you all again! Old and new students," he added, opening the door to the Potions classroom.

The class slowly filed in, looking about themselves awkwardly.

"Welcome to Advance Potions," Slughorn stood behind the table at the front of the room. "It's good to see your faces again."

Draco, towards the back of the room, looked around, bored. The tirade of gladness and welcomes had been tiring, McGonagall being the first of many to showcase their happiness at being back. Vector and Booth, the new Defence Against The Darks Arts professor, had both given an easy going first class, the latter attempting to sway favours towards him and his new teacher status.

Slughorn, however, was not interested in setting an easy task for their first class.

"Today, we will be brewing a Calming Draught. Turn to page twelve of your textbooks."

The lesson passed without incident, even Longbottom managing to produce a decent potion without melting down the newly repaired Potions classroom floor.

Of course points were awarded to Granger for her potion; the consistency was perfect; the smell, colour and temperature too.

No surprises there, Draco mumbled, swiping his books into his bag and leaving when the bell tolled to signal the end of the class.

The Slytherin table was quiet at Draco's end, Blaise and Pansy both sending cryptic glances at each other.

"If you have something to say, you'd better say it now while I'm in a charitable mood."

Pansy took a gulp of her pumpkin juice and Blaise cleared his throat.

"It's going to be a long year. That's all."

Draco stood from the table.

"Indeed," he picked up his bag, slung it over one shoulder and left for the library.

The quiet of the library was welcoming, only books and shelves at every corner. Locating a seat near a window, he dropped his bag and looked out into the dark night.

Hermione had finished the first draft of an Astronomy essay when a small blob of blonde caught her eye. Draco Malfoy was staring out into the dark, sitting perfectly still and straight, his bag next to him and his table empty.

What was he doing here?

Hermione felt slightly sorry for the boy –it was silly, she knew. After all the torment and teasing she'd endured at his hands, she still felt sympathy for him. It was either a very noble thing to do –or very stupid.

She returned her attention back to her work, forgetting about Malfoy.

At least for the time being.

* * *

The prickling feeling began to nag at her eyelids and Hermione admitted defeat, knowing she had to return to the dorm for some much needed sleep. Her bag was slowly packed and the candles around her extinguished. Lifting the bag over her shoulder, she tried to silently leave the library. Breathing a sigh of relief when no-one was alerted to her being out of bed at such a late hour, she lit her wand with a whispered "Lumos" and left for the dormitory.

She was almost there when she heard a frustrated groan from a classroom.

Was it her mind playing tricks on her at this time of night? She stopped, straining her ears for the sound again but what reached her was the sound of her own hushed breathing and the buzzing of suffocating silence.

_Hermione, you're just being paranoid._

That night, she cast a few extra charms and spells around her bed, just to be safe.

* * *

First the seconds ticked past, then the minutes. Hours and days followed, blurring into weeks. Routine began to set and the dust of the new atmosphere settled, leaving behind a content and comfortable niche. Hermione's routine was simple –check her wards in the morning, have two slices of toast and a goblet of pumpkin juice while reading the Daily Prophet at breakfast, attend all classes, perform her Head Girl duties then study in the library until her brain nagged at her to sleep.

It had become a common part of the late night study sessions that Draco Malfoy would sit four tables down from her and calmly and quietly do his work. Before, his obnoxious nose would turn upright and he'd sneer at being so close to her.

But now, he barely acknowledged her existence, not having spoken a single word –be it an insult or a snide comment- to her at all. She wasn't sure if it was because he had honestly nothing to say to her or because her existence was something that wasn't worthy of being recognised.

For the most part, she ignored him too, concentrating on her own work and blocked out any external stimuli.

* * *

It was a Friday when Hermione was leaving for the dormitories again when she passed the old Defence Against The Darks Arts classroom again. A small yelp was heard and then the sound of a door being closed.

"Dammit," she heard from the other side of the closed door. "Dammit, dammit, dammit."

The voice was soft but she recognised it at once.

Slowly, she placed her hand on the doorknob, the cold of it sending goose bumps up her arm. The internal debate started.

_Just what do you think you're doing? Barging in on people is impolite and surely, he won't like it one bit. Just leave it alone and walk away._

_But on the other hand, maybe he needs help? He sounds like he needs help. There's no harm in asking._

_Just leave, Hermione. He's not going to want help from you._

_But maybe he might accept –he's changed this year; everyone's changed this year._

Without another moment's hesitation, Hermione turned the knob and pushed the door open softly.

At first, all she could see was the tables and chairs of the classroom, covered in dust until the light at the front of the classroom illuminated a cupboard, a satchel and a very frustrated Draco Malfoy with his head in his hands.

At the sound of her opening the door, his head whipped around, his eyes large and his wand poised.

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice tight and strained.

"I heard –I thought –maybe –are you alright?"

"I don't need your help," he said bitterly.

Maybe he hadn't changed as much as she'd thought.

"I just thought –I heard you cursing and maybe you needed some-"

"Are you hearing deficient? Has the war blown off your ears or something? I don't need your help, Granger."

She clamped her mouth shut, thinking of a witty retort but before anything could come to her mind, the cupboard gave a violent shake, the handle rattling.

"What is going on?" Hermione demanded, "And as Head Girl, you are to tell me at once."

"As Head Boy, I feel no need to tell you anything," he jumped up and brought his fist down heavily onto the door, silencing whatever was inside.

"Wait a minute," Hermione pieced the jigsaw together. "I've seen this cupboard. Is this –no. It can't be –after all these years," she locked eyes with Draco. "Is this the cupboard from Lupin's class all those years ago?"

He sneered. "Congratulations, the brainiest witch of the year has once again managed to delve deep into her memory and solve the problems presented." He picked up his bag and stormed towards the door.

"Wait, is that a boggart?"

"Would you like a trophy for that astounding identification?" He stopped in front of her, his eyes delving into hers with a hint of patronisation.

She ignored him. "What are you doing with a boggart in the middle of the night?"

The hand on his bag tightened and it was then that she saw the half eaten bar of chocolate he' left behind on a desk.

"Were you trying to conjure a Patronus?"

The glare he threw at her was sharp and menacing. "It's none of your bloody business."

With a shove to her shoulder, he pushed her out of his way and disappeared down the empty and dark hallway.

The cupboard rattled again and with trepidation, Hermione started to move towards it. Five years ago, Hermione's boggart had taken the form of the failure of all her classes and the subsequent memory loss of all assessment.

Curiosity gripped at her system, nagging and burrowing its way into her head, sleep being forgotten altogether.

The handle shook again and Hermione gripped it tightly.

With a pull, she opened the door and out came-

Nothing?

Her illuminated wand was held higher and suddenly the contents of the wardrobe were made very clear.

Her parents hung limply in the wardrobe, their figured suspended by a rope tied around their necks and their lifeless faces pale and ghostly.

Stifling a small cry of horror, she attempted to utter the counter curse.

"Riddikulus," she stammered. "R-riddikulus!"

She started to back away, the figures suspended in her mind. In her head, the blood ran, the screams and the yells and the spells and the shooting of jets of red and green and white surrounded her and the cries.

The cries.

"Riddikulus!" she tried again but the figures didn't budge. What if it was real? What if this wasn't the boggart? What was she doing wrong?

"Riddikulus!" A pair of arms pushed her out of the way and her wand was knocked to the ground. She fumbled for it, straightened up and a Dementor was swooping down onto Draco.

"Expecto –expecto patronum!" he cried but the black cloaked figure was swooping lower and lower. "Expecto-expecto-"

Your parents, Hermione. They are alright. It's your thirteenth birthday and the sky is so blue you swear it's a dream and laughs are being bellowed from a place deep in the belly and it's so genuine and loud and-

"Expecto patronum!" Hermione shouted, a bright ray of light erupting from the tip of the wand.

The boggart was forced back into the wardrobe and Draco quickly jumped at the door, shutting it.

Silence fell upon the room but the awkwardness didn't last long when Filch's voice was heard outside in the hallway.

"Did you hear voices, my pretty? Students out of bed again," he cackled. "Oh, I'll get them this time."

In a swift moment, Malfoy had grabbed Hermione's arm and dragged her behind the closet, pushing her behind him against the wall.

"Nox," they both whispered, their wands extinguishing as the darkness fell upon them.

Hermione heard the door slowly open followed by the meowing of a cat. Her breath hitched and she grabbed onto the back of Draco's jumper out of fear.

This was it –barely a month back at Hogwarts and if she was caught, she'd probably be stripped of her Head Girl status, caught out of bounds with the Head Boy no less. Her reputation would be sullied with no chance of a resurrection, her academic career slashed and torn to bits.

Malfoy shifter slightly, pushing her further into the stone wall but she stifled the wince that threatened to make its appearance.

Please, Mrs. Norris. Please don't find us. Please go away, go chase a mouse or something.

"What do you smell, my sweet?"

Hermione held her breath; please, please, please.

"Nothing?" Filch's voice was disappointed. "Must've been Peeves being a nuisance again. We'll get him, oh don't worry, we will."

It was only after the resounding click of the door being closed that Hermione let out her breath, letting go of the jumper in her hand at the same time.

"That was close," she remarked, her breath heaving.

Draco gave her a look of calm. "Please compose yourself in the future; I don't fancy people grabbing onto my jumper."

Hermione turned a shade of red that she was glad he couldn't see in the darkness. However, she was still pressed against Draco and the cold wall; a predicament she was glad for –at least he wouldn't be able to see her reddening cheeks.

"Why are we still behind the wardrobe?"

"Just in case Filch decides to come back and double check."

"I think we're safe Malfoy."

Slowly, he stepped out from behind the wardrobe and illuminated his wand. Hermione followed suit, picking up her bag.

He looked like he was about to say something but then changed his mind, picking up his own bag instead.

"Next time, don't barge in on people."

She shot a glare at him.

"Next time, cast a proper silencing spell."

* * *

Three days later, Hermione was studying in the library late again when, instead of concentrating, she felt the nagging hand of curiosity pull at her again.

She packed her bags carefully and left the dark library for the old Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom. The journey there was plagued by the constant nagging in her mind, telling her to stop what she was doing and turn back and head for the dorms where sleep could finally overtake her system.

But a little curiosity was a dangerous thing and she moved slowly and quietly towards the classroom, raising her wand above her head.

The door was closed and she couldn't hear anything beyond it; perhaps he'd taken her advice and set appropriate silencing charms?

She slowly turned the doorknob and pushed open the door, incredibly aware that Draco Malfoy probably wouldn't like her curiosity but opting to deal with that later.

"Haven't you learnt by now to keep your nose out of other people's business."

Hermione stood firm.

"I'd like to help you."

Her gaped at her for a moment. "I'm sorry?"

"I said; I would like to help you conjure a Patronus."

"And what indications have I given that you've taken as me wanting to accept your help?"

"There haven't really been indications, I just thought-"

"I'm not looking for a tutor. If that's what you're looking to do, I'm sure a first year somewhere would appreciate it."

"You can't conjure one, right?"

"Have you lost all ability to use your brain? I don't want your help."

"I think you do."

"I can honestly say that I don't."

"And now I'm going to trust you and your honesty."

"Granger, go away," he said slowly, like she was mentally challenged.

"What memory are you using?"

"I hardly think that's any of your business."

"Is it strong?"

He was silent.

"It has to be a really strong memory; what is your happiest memory?"

Anger flared in his nostrils and eyes. "Granger, if I knew the answer to that idiotic question, I would be able to produce a Patronus by now."

He slipped his bag onto his shoulders, gripped his wand and walked past her again, out the door and into the hallway.

This time, Hermione didn't let him go, following him down the dark corridor instead.

"What is it?"

"Why are you bothering me?"

To be fair, he should have chosen another location to perform his late night practicing but a small part of him wanted her to be there again; not for some romantic reason –he wanted to show her, someone, anyone, that he had the determination to get this right, even after everything else in his life had crashed and burnt into a crisp.

"I just want to help you."

He was silent again, their footfalls the only sound and the occasional portrait being awoken.

"It's the first time I set foot on Hogwarts grounds."

Hermione sped up a little, falling into step beside him and staring at his face curiously.

"That's your memory?" she sighed. "Well, that's hardly good enough."

"I-" he took another long pause as they climbed a flight of stairs. "I don't have anything else."

Silence, the extremely awkward type, spread over the pair and Hermione felt the suffocating hand of embarrassment and nerves clutching at her chest.

"You don't?"

Draco Malfoy cleared his throat. It was the happiest memory he possessed and even though he's wracked his brains for something –anything- happier, the one event he could truly count as happy would be entering Hogwarts for the first time.

"Newsflash," he grumbled, walking up another flight of stairs. "Why are you following me?"

"We live in the same dormitory," Hermione reminded him, trudging up the stairs beside him.

He made no response.

"I'm sure you have a happy memory; something that's so great that you only have to think about it and you feel a lot better."

He didn't say anything for a while. "No."

"Not even one?"

"Growing up in the Malfoy Manor doesn't exactly produce many opportunities to be happy or create happy memories."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said softly.

"For what? It wasn't your fault."

His sentiment took her by surprise. It was definitely highly unlike Malfoy to be nice to her, let alone offer her peace of mind.

"I-I-" she stammered, unable to find the appropriate words to express her feelings. "Thanks."

They reached the eighth floor and started down the hallway that led to their dormitories.

"I can help you, you know."

"Help me?"

"You can study with me, if you like."

He scoffed. "Thanks. But no thanks."

"You don't need to be-"

Draco stopped; his body frozen, grabbed Hermione by the arm and pulled her behind a tapestry. Hermione's back hit the wall and she was about to utter a yelp when a cool hand clamped her mouth shut. He brought his other hand to his mouth, signalling for her to keep quiet.

On the other side of the tapestry, Hermione heard a faint meow as Mrs. Norris slunk down the hallway.

"Don't you pay attention to these kinds of things?"

"What do you mean?"

"Filch could have caught you if I weren't here."

"What is with you and your obsession with pushing me against stone walls?" They started walking again and Hermione realised the slip she'd made.

Her face reddened and Hermione realised the innuendos hidden in her sentence. Her face burnt, her ears scorching. "I didn't mean –I meant, in a way that's completely innocent. Nothing intimate or awkward and-"

They reached the bust of Helga the Horrible, whispered the password to her and Hermione practically ran to the Gryffindor dormitory.

Just as she was about to close the door, she stopped.

"You know you don't always have to be alone."

He pushed open his own door.

"Goodnight, Granger."

* * *

Weeks passed and even though Hermione was in the library almost on a daily basis, Draco Malfoy hadn't been spotted at his usual seat. Sometimes, she'd look out the window he was always sitting next to and see the lake, the Giant Squid breaking the surface every so often.

One chilly November evening, when she had to cast a few extra warming spells around her, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching her. Registering the sound, she continues drafting her latest Potions essay.

_What did Slughorn say about the effects of overdosing on gillyweed, again?_

She consulted her notes at the same time the chair next to her was pulled out, scraping along the timber floors loudly and a bag dropped next to it.

"Can I sit here?"

She looked up, her mouth slightly agape.

"Of –of course you can," she gave her head a small shake, clearing some parchment.

Malfoy folded his lean torso elegantly into a seat, pulling out his matching books and eagle feather quill and began to quietly work on his own homework.

Seconds ticked on and Hermione felt the awkwardness slowly sink away, giving way to their mutual need to finish their work. The silence was forgotten as Hermione turned back to her books, checking for the effects of too much gillyweed.

* * *

For the next week, Draco was there, sitting next to her as they studied. Words were rarely spoken, both parties not knowing what to say to each other. Familiarity began to worm its way into their routine and Hermione began to pick up on his little habits; he would write in such a peculiar way that ink never made it onto his hands, he never scribbled messily in his margins like she did; he always sat straight, his back perfectly upright and while Hermione was slouched in her seat, he remained in his perfect posture.

She remembered the first time he yawned; the sound was so unfamiliar and uncharacteristic that she couldn't help but stare at him.

"What?" he'd asked.

"Nothing," she replied, packing up her things, her quills and spare parchment pushed into her brimming over the top satchel.

Draco Malfoy packed his books neatly into his own, every item back in its place.

They usually left together, walking up to their common room together silently, not knowing what exactly to say to each other.

One night, he stopped at the bust of Helga the Horrible.

"I'm sorry for-" he paused. "I'm sorry for everything."

"What do you mean?"

"I was," he stopped again, thinking. "I was a right jerk to you. I'm sorry. And what Bellatrix did to you, I didn't-" he stopped. "I-I couldn't stop it, I didn't know how and I'm really sorry."

Hermione smiled, looking down at her feet, feeling the tinge of a blush reaching and spreading across her cheeks.

"It's okay," she whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Really,"

He felt strange; normally he wouldn't allow himself to be in such close proximity to anyone, no less Granger. Sure, he didn't quite believe in blood superiority anymore but his instincts and habit told him to place a safe distance between him and anyone.

So why was it that when her hand was on his arm, he wished that he could just-

No, stop it.

She removed her hand.

"I'm glad to hear that."

He ducked into the common room, past the crackling fire and portraits and into the room he shared with Blaise.

His companion wasn't asleep yet and as Draco removed his tie, he spoke.

"Lately, you've been coming back later and later."

Draco cleared his throat.

"It's none of your business."

* * *

It was scaring him beyond anything.

He was starting to obsess with Granger, noticing her every movement and actively telling himself to stop staring at her. But there was just something about her that he found fascinating; the way she tucked stray strands of hair behind her ears; the way her hands were always covered in ink; the way her tie sat around her neck.

Dear God did he –? No, he couldn't be.

* * *

Christmas morning dawned with snow on windowsills and the castle was decorated with trees and lights, mistletoe hanging in the most inopportune places.

Draco had tried to quash the little crush he had on Hermione with varying degrees of success. For the first few days, he found the need to be where she was; the need to stand by her side and listen to her talk. He snapped himself out of that one by telling himself sharply that he was not, no matter what the circumstances were, to act like a Hufflepuff. The next few weeks passed in relative normalcy, despite his desire to do something about it. Their nightly study sessions were beginning to become torturous for him –he couldn't quite find the confidence to tell her. Partly due to the fear of rejection, he also knew that it was bound to scare her off. He didn't really want to scare her off.

So he settled for staring at her from afar.

Sometimes, when she suggested it, they would leave the library a bit early and work on the Patronus charm. Every time, they left a little more tired with nothing to show for it; Draco could not, for the life of himself, find a positively happy memory from his life.

It was pathetic, watching Hermione show him over and over again with all her different happy memories and him, watching her with jealousy and unease; how was it possible that he had nothing?

When the morning of Christmas fell upon the castle, Draco didn't wake expecting many presents.

But what lay waiting for him was Hermione Granger, sitting in an armchair near his bed, reading a book.

"Granger?"

Was he dreaming? It certainly felt real enough.

"Oh, finally!" she beamed at him. "And just so you know, you snore in your sleep."

He frowned. "I do not."

Hermione laughed. "And your hair is ridiculous."

His hand flew to his hair, smoothing down the strands. "What are you doing in my room?"

A small smile reached her face, pulling at her cheeks.

"I'm here to give you something," a small neatly wrapped present was produced. "Here, open it."

She leaned over, pressing the gift onto his sheets.

He yawned, stretched and finally reached for the package.

"What is it?"

"Open it!"

Slowly, he untied the ribbon, eased a finger underneath the tape and pulled the wrapping from the box. Inside was a small cardboard box. He flipped open the sides and slipped out what appeared to be a velvet covered square of-

"What is this?"

"You have to turn it over," Hermione laughed.

Oh, it was a photo frame.

Inside, the magic photo depicted a sleeping Draco, face down on his own pillow, mouth agape and Hermione, giving the camera the thumbs up.

"When did you take this?" he demanded, staring closer at it.

"About…" she trailed off. "…ten minutes ago. It's a good thing Blaise has gone home for Christmas otherwise that could have been quite uncomfortable."

He noticed the camera lying by her feet. "Where did you get the camera?"

"I borrowed it from a fifth year. Do you like it?"

"I'm not sure," he said. On one hand, he liked that she was in it –not so sure about his state of unconsciousness.

"Thank you," a foreign feeling spread throughout his chest. Was he –was this –

Was he happy?

"It's great," he looked up at her and beamed.

Hermione was shocked for a small moment but calmly closed her jaw and smiled back at him. "You are very welcome." She stood.

"Wait! I didn't get you anything." Stupid, why didn't I think to get her a gift?

"It's alright, really. I'll see you at breakfast." With that, she picked up her camera, her book and left the room.

It was strange; normally, if he was to wake up with a female watching him, he'd screamed a few curses and she wouldn't be able to do that ever again. But with Hermione, he was _happy _that she was.

He looked back down at the picture and tried to prod himself awake but it didn't work, his photograph slept on and Hermione beamed up at him.

He placed the frame down on his bedside table.

* * *

That night, he crept into the Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom alone, his wand held high and a good feeling in his gut.

It was going to happen, he knew it. Surely that memory was powerful enough, it had to be.

The closet rattled and he opened it quickly.

The black cloaked figure of the Patronus emerged and swooped down.

His mother started screaming in his ears, Bellatrix urged him on, "Go on, just do it, Draco, just do it" and his father's stern voice pushed him to the brink. Voldemort's ice cold voice slithered into his head, "Come on boy, just a little spell." Bellatrix was there again and why wouldn't his mother stop screaming?

Stop, think about this morning and think about waking up and those freckles, that nose, that bushy hair.

"Expecto patronum!" he yelled and to his utter shock, a little wisp of silver erupted from the end of his wand, the Dementor pausing for a moment.

That frame she gave you, that photo, the photo Draco, concentrate!

"Expecto patronum!" he bellowed again, trying to think above the screaming of his mother and focus on the photograph instead. This time, a larger blob of silver flew from his wand, twisting into an odd shape and the Dementor was stopped again.

But Draco couldn't conjure enough positivity to produce another and his mother screamed in his ears and he fell and the stone floor was so hard and cold and he could just make out another yell.

"Draco!"

* * *

"Come on, wake up," a hand slapped at his face. "Come on," _slap_. "Wake up." _Slap_.

His eyebrows creased for a moment and his eyes flew open.

Hermione Granger was hovering above him, her eyes frantic and worried.

"Oh thank God," she mumbled, removing her hand from his cheek. "Here," she pushed some chocolate into his hands and he sat up slowly.

"How did you know I was here?"

"You're either here or the library," she said, picking up her wand from the ground.

It was astounding just how much she'd taken in about him. She knew he hated first years bustling around him, hated it when his toast wasn't excruciatingly hot and hated it when his ties were wrinkled. He wore black suits on the weekend, white shirts only, he had a green ring on is index finger, he shoes were always shined and his hair slicked back and he never rolled his shirts past his wrists, no matter how warm it was.

And, thanks to Ginny and Neville, he stared at Hermione.

A lot.

At first, she'd written off their observations as fictitious but slowly, she began to realise that they were right.

He stared at her a lot.

She pushed it aside to friendship; she was probably his only real friend at the moment, a fact that was sad and grim, and she could hardly condemn someone for staring.

But one night, Ginny voiced the notion that'd been rolling around in her mind for a few days.

"Do you think he fancies you?"

"Who?"

"Malfoy, of course!"

"Why would you say that?"

"Come on, Hermione, he stares at you a lot. And who knows what's going on in his head between all those late night study sessions and Head duties."

"Ginny, we're only friends, if even that. I hardly think he fancies me. Now, I'm going to finish up my draft for Transfiguration in the library, what about you?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I'd rather not. Besides, I don't want to be intruding upon your private time with Draco!"

Hermione laughed. "Oh, come off it, Ginny, I highly doubt it."

* * *

As she sat down next to him, his whole body tensed. It was strange and felt unnatural to be so close to someone. He took a bite of the chocolate and immediately felt the warmth spread throughout his system, bleeding to his hands and feet.

"Thank you," he mumbled.

Hermione leaned towards him, knocking his shoulder gently with her own. "Don't mention it. Any luck?"

He smiled. "Well, something happened."

"What do you mean?"

"A little –I don't know, I guess a ray of silver came from my wand. It's never happened before."

"That's great!" Hermione beamed, "We're getting closer; I can feel it."

They were silent for a moment.

"Did you use the same memory?"

He felt every nerve in his body fire up and his cheeks began to tingle.

"No, I used a different one."

"Oh? Which one?"

What was he supposed to say?

"Oh, just something from when I was a child."

Hermione laughed. "I knew there had to be something stronger."

They were silent again. "Well, I'm glad we've made progress."

He liked the way she said 'we'.

"How about an early night? It is Christmas after all."

He nodded, "Good idea."

They left the room together and started for the eighth floor.

Nervousness spread throughout Hermione's body; she didn't know how to feel about her recent epiphany that perhaps Malfoy could be harbouring interest in her.

The walk to their dorms was slow and Hermione felt her stomach heave itself into her throat.

"Have you finished the Transfiguration essay yet?"

"Not quite, you?"

"Almost."

"That's good."

The bust of Helga the Horrible swam into view and Hermione spoke the password.

"Well, goodnight," she stood in front of the Gryffindor door nervously.

"Wait, before you do, I have something to give you. Will you wait here for a moment?"

"Sure," she said, curious.

He disappeared through his own door and within seconds, he was back, holding a neatly wrapped parcel in his hands.

He held it towards her. "This is for you."

Hermione smiled. "Draco, you really didn't have to."

"It's okay, open it."

She untied the ribbon and ripped open the wrapping.

It was a book.

The thick tome was engraved.

_Hogwarts; A History._

Inside, a small ink scribble announced it as belonging to Garino.

"Is this –is this Professor Garino's copy of _Hogwarts; A History_?"

Draco nodded. "I hope you like it."

"Are you joking? I love it!" Hermione stopped. "I can't accept this."

"Why not?" His face fell.

"It's too much, I can't take this from you."

"It's a gift," he told her. "You're supposed to accept it."

She clutched the book to her chest.

"I –I don't know what to say. Thank you."

He grinned. "It's no problem at all, trust me."

"This is a copy owned by Professor Garino himself!" Hermione's excitement was infection and Draco's grin grew wider.

"Thank you!" She squealed, flinging her arms around him. "This is the best present ever!"

Draco stood frozen, Hermione's arms around him and strands of her bushy hair brushed along his cheek. He tried to absorb as much as he could about the moment; the way her hands felt around him; the way her hair smelt; the feeling of her heart thudding close to his.

She let go.

"Seriously, thank you."

He was dazed. "You're welcome."

She leaned into him and pressed a light kiss to his cheek, her hand brushing his arm.

"Happy Christmas," she smiled.

He managed to smile back.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione."

* * *

New Years crept upon them and the 31st saw the common room bustling with students.

Hermione was chatting to Lavender and Ginny when Draco approached her.

"Can you come with me for a moment? I'd like to show you something."

"Sure," Hermione smiled, turned back to Ginny.

"Hurry up, Hermione! It's almost twelve."

"This will only take a moment."

Draco led her out into the hallway. "Come on," he urged her, reaching for her hand.

She felt his hand slide into hers, tugging. "You'll have to hurry up if you want to get back in time."

She laughed as she let him pull her along.

"Where are we going?"

"Hurry!" He was almost sprinting now, pulling her behind him.

They descended a few flights of stairs, his hand never leaving hers. But she didn't have time to think about that as they almost crashed into the door of the old Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom.

"What are we doing here?"

"You'll see," he pushed open the door, muttered a silencing spell in case Filch was wandering again and let go of her hand. Striding up to the wardrobe, he pulled open the door.

Once again, a Dementor swooped down on him like it had countless time and the yelling and pandemonium started.

"Expecto patronum," he pronounced clearly, a small shape emerging from his wand.

Hermione gasped in wonder. The animal scurried towards the Dementor, forcing it back into the closet.

"Draco!" Hermione shouted in triumph. "That was marvellous!"

She moved towards him and his face almost split into two as he smiled back at her.

"Thanks to you," he said.

"How long have you been able to-?"

"It was my first Patronus."

"How were you so sure it would work?"

"I just had a feeling."

Hermione started to laugh.

"What's so funny?" he asked, slightly confused.

"Your Patronus!" she giggled. "It's a ferret!"

"I hardly think that's as humorous as you think it is."

"It's not –not really. But it has agreeable symmetry, don't you think?"

Before he could respond, Hermione looked at her watch.

"Oh no, it's almost midnight! We have to get back to the dormitory!"

She hurried towards the door, wrenching it open and ran for the staircases, Draco following behind her. Their journey felt like it was in slow motion, Hermione's head of bushy hair bounding in front of him.

"Come on," she urged as they reached the fifth floor, their breaths in pants now.

"Ten!" A shout was heard from the nearby Ravenclaw House.

"We can make it!"

"Nine," Draco panted, his feet carrying him towards the eighth floor.

"Eight!"

Seventh floor.

"Seven!"

Almost there, another staircase.

"Six!"

Eighth floor.

"Five."

Hermione pushed herself to run faster.

"Four."

The eighth floor staircase swam into view.

"Three."

They bounded up the stairs and the bust of Helga the Horrible was so close now.

"Two."

They weren't going to make it, they were going to be late.

"One!"

"Hermione stop!"

"Happy New Year!"

Hermione stopped and in a quick moment, Draco's hand found hers, his other moving to cup her cheek and he brought his lips down to hers.

Cheering erupted throughout the castle and Hermione felt his smile against her lips.

They broke apart, their breathing loud and gasping.

"Happy New Year, Hermione."

She beamed at him, shaking her head in disbelief and wonder.

"Happy New Year, Malfoy."

* * *

_He was alone in the room and he couldn't bear to open the door to the closet just yet._

_He had a memory; a soft kiss pressed against his cheek, the smell of her hair, the feel of her arms._

_He reached for the doorknob but found he couldn't open it._

_No, it wouldn't be right if she wasn't here, he had to go get her._

_It was nearing midnight when he made it back to the dormitory and he spotted her in an instant, talking to Weasley and Brown._

_He persuaded her to leave with him and to make sure she was hurrying, he grasped her hand. He liked the feeling of her hand in his._

_I'm going to do it, he promised himself as he pulled her alongside him._

_If it happens, I'm going to tell her. I'm going to kiss her._

_The Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom drew nearer._

_If I can conjure a Patronus, I'm going to tell her how I feel._

_The door of the room was pushed open, spells cast and he moved towards the wardrobe._

_The Dementor emerged, its cloak draping and its rotting breath permeating the air._

_Remember the feel of her, Draco, the feel of her hands and her hair on his cheek._

_The feel of her lips._

"_Expecto patronum!"_

* * *

_I hope you enjoyed!_

_Until next time;_

_Starky._


End file.
